What Makes A Man
by Julia Fernandez Hiwatari
Summary: Times are changing, and the day-to-day stresses seem never ending. Now more has entered their little haven.
1. Chapter 1

What Makes A Man

Final Fantasy VII

For: **Kelleyj17**

Chapter One: Apprehension

The sleet fell heavily in Midgar. Drenching sheets came down swiftly and landed with hard knocks on the structures of the rebuilt, and now slowly flourishing, city.

On the outskirts, in the back of Seventh Heaven, Tifa was doing her usual duties of cooking and cleaning. While tending to a tough pot under scalding water a soft, rhythmic tune passed her upturned lips. The light hum exuded warmth, giving the exceptionally quiet place a welcoming feel.

Tifa's dark tresses moved forward as if someone was blowing a handheld fan on her. Pushing down her annoyance, she tucked her hair behind her ears, her slightly pruned fingertips brushing the silver studded earring she wore. That touch did it, it sent her mind into overdrive, making her surroundings blurry and the steam seem hotter.

The moment she gripped the edge of the sink, a sob erupted, coming out in a loud bawl. The rush from the facet crowded her ears, cutting all of her senses off. Again, this was happening again.

For what felt like the millionth time that day, though it was more like the second, her 'busy mode' was interrupted by a feeling or another, rather nonchalant, movement. Something about the rain, as of late anyway, always did this to her, and she didn't dare let the conscious side of her mind admit why.

The cold, stale air she felt behind her became stronger. Then the noise of spinning blades directly in her ears brought her crashing back down to reality with a hard jolt.

"Ahh, Denzel Strife!" Tifa screamed as she whipped around, fury flaring in her carmine colored pools. Though the semi dim lighting from the adjacent fans made them look more of a deep brown.

Said man flashed her a mischievous smirk, "Sorry, mom. You were spacing out again."

The athletic brunette gave the ageless beauty before him a soft, consoling smile. Raising a thumb to wipe away her hot tears, he added, "And crying." His smile faded right after, "What's wrong this time?"

This wasn't the first time she'd done this, cried her heart out, only to be knocked back into herself in one goofy way or another.

Tifa gathered herself, and with a subtle sniffle said, "I'm alright. Just had a long day." She looked at the ticking clock hung high on the far wall then back at him. "Time for bed. You've got school in the morning."

Denzel groaned, "Oh come on, this is the thanks I get for saving you from dad's smelly afterwork odor?"

She shot him a stern look, doing her best to stifle the boisterous laugh. "Yes, it is, Mr. Sneaky." She folded her arms over her chest, "Now, _bed_. Its nearly ten thirty, or do you want another lecture on the importance of sleep?"

Their emotional son rolled his eyes in protest but did as told, trotting up the stairs in defeat.

With the shake of her head and a slight chuckle she went back to the sudsy pan, relentlessly scrubbing away at it. This was ridiculous, who knew burnt cheese would be this much of an ass?

At the closing of the bar's front door, she became rigid. Tight knots formed in her stomach as her husband's steps pounded closer. Deciding to let the pan soak overnight, she quickly drowned it in soap and shut the water off after a few seconds.

"Tifa, I'm back."

There it was, his oh-so soothing voice. For the first time in months Cloud was back, truly home. As expected, her emotions were in a jumble. A mix of calm and vomit inducing panic flooded her from head to foot.

Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer Tifa turned to face him, nervously wiping her hands on a nearby dish towel. Mentally taking a breath her mind raced through all she wanted to say, but in that moment, only one thing stuck out... How to tell him?

**To Be Continued... **

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**WooHoo! My first FF7 fanfic! I hope you guys like it, and enjoy what's to come! ^^ **


	2. Chapter 2

** Thank you so much Guest for the review! it means a lot! :3 I'd ask what your guess was but I unfortunately can't. Either way, I hope you enjoy this! the next one will be longer. **

Chapter Two: Piling Up

The two locked eyes, the air around them becoming thicker. Again, this was happening again. More stressful news was coming, and Cloud could tell by her features that this was gonna cut deep.

Pushing all that aside he stepped up to her, placing a hand atop the one she had resting on the counter.

"I'm back." The spiky haired gent tried again. Maybe if he kept pushing he'd at least get the kiss he yearned for.

Seeing the silence eat at her the taller man leaned firmly against the wet structure.

"I'm not leaving." He comforted, his chest tightening. Normally it was the other way around, her urging him along, but since they'd married he'd learned the hard way he'd have to do that too at times.

"We need to talk." It was soft, barely audible, but she knew his keen hearing picked up on it.

Following her with his eyes, Cloud went after her, both deciding to sit at a table in the back away from view.

"Alright. What's up?" Cloud began, his hands clenching and relaxing on the recently polished wood. He cleared his throat, his SOLDIER training briefly crossing his mind from some odd reason.

Tifa peered up at him sorrowfully and uttered out, "We lost him... I had a miscarriage, yesterday. I'm so sorry, Cloud."

Time stopped, and for a second he thought this was a dream. That he'd wake up and see her glowing grin.

Cloud shifted in this seat and reached across the table, taking her hands in his. Without a word, he got up and pulled Tifa to him. As she cried into his shoulders, he soothingly stroked her hair, their scents melding.

"It's okay. We'll try again."

Those words only made her cry harder. Sure they could, but sex was the last thing she wanted. If all it did was cause this, what was the point in even _doing i_t?

At another heart-wrenching sob, the phone rang, and seeing that Tifa was in no shape to stand on her own he just let it ring. If it was anything, or in their cases anyone, important they'd call back.

There it was, the beep of the distant answering machine, then a voice was heard.

"Hello, Mr. Strife. This is, Atticus Murray from 'the next city over' as you so politely put it when we met, and I don't recall ordering a breast enlarger. I ordered a set of arrows. Now my wife is hecklin' me-" The machine's timer ran out, sounding off another dull beep.

"He sounds pissed." Cloud clipped, his eyes narrowing.

With a sniffle Tifa pulled herself away and wiped her eyes while she let out a simple hum, showing she agreed with him.

Then the icy ball dropped in his gut, "Shit!"

And he began to pace the floor, firing off rapidly, "Oh, shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!"

"What? What happened?"

Running an exasperated hand through his golden locks Cloud said, "I mixed up two deliveries."

Tifa looked at him, a mix of disbelief and anger in her features. "Again? Cloud, this is the third time in a row."

Cloud stood firm and snipped, "I _know_. Its not like I mean to. His accent is thick so I may have misunderstood him."

"Or, you read the addresses wrong." Tifa reasoned, reminding him of last two incidents.

"What have I told you about reading by headlights? Don't do it!"

Cloud scowled, his fuse ignited, "Tifa, I'm under a time limit. I have due dates and have to abide by them."

"And I get that but its clearly costing you. They can wait, _sleep_!"

"That's not always possible! You know that!"

"But you can _make it possible_! You're twenty-seven, you're not getting any younger. Start taking care of your eyesight!"

He allowed his fuse to fizzle out so he could think clearly, not regret anything. "Tifa, my eyes are fine... Its late, we'll talk more about this later."

"Fine, but this needs to be fixed sooner than later or you'll be finished."

Cloud nodded, showing he understood, and put his arm around her shoulders.

Leading her up the stairs to their room he pondered what to do about it and the miscarriage. He couldn't leave her here, not when she needed him. But this mix up, if left alone, could spell the end of his career. Both were major priorities, but which to put first?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: A Day in the Life of Denzel Strife

Pale, nimble fingers slid out from beneath the navy blue weighted blanket at the sound of the alarm. They pressed the button on the back of the black box, subsequently ending the repetitive beeping noise.

Denzel sat up, rubbing the sleep from his heavy eyes. He'd tossed and turned most of the night, unintentionally listening in on the commotion below.

Shoving things down, the fifteen-year-old readied himself for the day. He couldn't fake sick this time, he had a major test to pass. Within ten minutes he was ready to go, no shower needed thanks to Tifa's nagging.

Trotting down the steps he soon found Cloud nursing a coffee. It wasn't often he got to see him here, let alone appearing so casual and acting like he never left. This was nice.

"Long night?" Denzel asked, approaching the man leaning over the counter.

"Mhmm." Cloud hummed out, his pool-like eyes still on the large, white mug. The steam twined upward, wrapping around his bony face as if it were fingers.

"Hurry up and eat, or you'll be late."

Denzel nodded at that, double-checked his satchel, and decided on some eggs. If he didn't eat Marlene would verbally skin him.

"Do you want any?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at the buff man who just shook his head.

Cloud was still taller than him by a head and a half, but if things kept up, that'd soon change. The handmedowns and birthday presents were becoming tighter by the day, some starting to fit better. Pretty soon he'd need some new shoes too.

"Denz?" Cloud began, finishing off his drink before pouring some more.

"Yeah?"

The spatula sped around the pan, moving the food about the sizzling iron surface in quick succession. In mere seconds the usual smells filled the entire kitchen and that made Cloud's nose hairs curl inward. Like most teens Denzel cooked everything on High.

"You're overcooking them." He uttered flatly.

Taking the tool from his hand, Cloud took over and with his eyes told the younger one to go sit down. With a slight glare Denzel did so. In a minute or two he was eating proper, not dry or burnt, food.

As he ate, the boy heard Cloud head back up the stairs to the room he shared with Tifa.

Trekking the familiar, winding streets to his school, Denzel heard the loose slush and thin ice crunch beneath his military boots. The open cuffs and zipper of his waist-length leather jacket jangled slightly with every hard step. The cold made the way more peaceful, the older neighbors not out and about yet. The crisp air was nice and smelled just as well, the smoke of the surrounding fireplaces mixing with it.

Within ten minutes he spotted his temporary prison around the corner and begrudgingly went on. Soon, many varying voices and tones of chatter filled his ears, and amongst that Denzel made his way through the ocean-like bustle to his locker at the end of the hall.

"Morning, Marlene." Denzel said, trotting up to her, a wide smile on his face. Yes he was subtly bragging about his minty breath. Would she notice?

"Morning, Denzel. How's it going?" She said as she locked her locker with a single spin of the lock's knob, books pressed to her chest firmly in the crease of her other arm.

"Fine. Typical weekend."

The two made their way to Homeroom, something done once a day before first period.

"Oh, hello, shithead."

Marlene and the newly named 'shithead' glared at the trio of local dickweeds in their way.

"What do you want, Jamie?" Marlene spat, her brown eyes saying she was sick of this crony and his posse of greasy gangster posers.

Jamie Gunner and his crew were recent movers from Gongaga. Well-to-do cousins it seemed, and the single mother, probably Jamie's, openly enjoyed dressing her babyfaced family in casual suits one would see in an office setting.

Denzel put a gentle but firm hand on her slender shoulder. He silently led her off to the side with the arm he had around her.

One of Jamie's goons, another tenth grader named Keith Sanger, slid smugly into their path. He locked eyes with him, a stern face stiffening his ever-thinning features.

Eyeing his stance, Keith cooed out, "Aw, look at that. You tryin' to be like daddy Strife? Oh wait-"

Denzel mocked, his deep ocean blues mentally drowning the guy, "Aw, at least I have one."

Denzel's dry, straight-faced remark and the goon's agape, dirty face earned a few laughs from the accompanying males.

That gave Denzel enough leeway to get Marlene away.

"Y'alright?" Denzel asked, his body numb, eyes still glued to her.

Marlene Wallace was three years younger than him, a head and a half shorter, but still steadily growing into her china-doll features. With Tifa being her biggest influence, she took more after her the older she got, even dressing like her nowadays. Though she still kept her signature ponytail braid and pink ribbon. Deep down, Denzel hoped he favored his hero in her eyes too. Minus the spikes. Let's face it, no one, not even Cloud, wanted chocobo hair.

"I'm fine." Marlene said, subtly shifting away from his hold as they passed a catty group of preppy looking twelfth graders discussing which guy here, most-likely a teacher, had the best backside.

Denzel let her go, understanding completely why she was on edge.

"Sorry-" He tried, his hands going into his pockets of his dark jeans.

"You're fine. Its not you, its him."

Denzel nodded at that, once again understanding where she was coming from.

The two found Mr. Simmons's room and went in, the warning bell ringing as they spotted and took their seats at the far end of the second-to-front row.

School went by fine, boring as usual. That was, until gym. His grade, the Sophomores, were in it today. Their lunch having just ended. Not only that, the game they were playing was dodgeball. Yup, this was gonna be hell.

Walking by a bulletin board filled with papers, Denzel scanned them, avoiding the locker room.

The pasty white papers consisted of class rosters and the two teachers specified grades. This school taught grades K-12, only fifteen to twenty kids being in each grade. The couple taught the kindergarten class together, then they split the others down the middle. The easy-on-the-eyes wife taught the lower ones while the suave, goofy husband taught the upper ones.

Denzel made his way into the noisy space on the right, dreading this hour.

As he changed into his yellow teeshirt and black shorts, he caught sight of a long, dark haired Keith and spiky, midnight blue haired Jamie throwing trash at people in the midst of changing. Meanwhile, their bubbly, pompadour donning brunette buddy Mark Regard was laughing off somewhere in the distance, his burly half dressed self sitting on a long bench in the middle of the musty smelling area. All three of them were muscular in their own way, but Mark seemed to have them beat. He clearly lifted weights. Out of the three, he appeared the most intimidating.

Gym went well until dodgeball, like he thought, his buzzards scoped him out, zeroed in, and fired in crowded streams. Again, Denzel left gym with long unattended, bruises on top of other bruises, and many layered bumps. While that didn't bother him, it did Tifa, and forget if Cloud saw them. He was a man, he could handle this on his own. He had to, the couple had their own problems to deal with anyway.

Soon, Denzel found himself alone and taking the repetitive pathway home some disembodied and incoherently distant voices coming and going.

Picking up on hard but steadily spaced out crunching of ice behind him, Denzel's guard rose up to his mop of hair. Once he felt hot breath on him, he roughly flung the person over him by their wide wrist, slamming them to the ground and refusing to let go.

"Can I help you?" Denzel flatly asked, his eyes cold.

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**Thank you so much for the review guest, you're awesome! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and what's to come! :3**


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